Seafaring Odyssey
by Gravitymystery
Summary: It's been two months since Weirdmageddon. Stanley and Stanford Pines have begun their adventure on the high seas aboard the Stan O' War. Their journey begins to get interesting when the two run into sea monsters, whirlpools, and mysterious islands. But when the vacation starts to get serious, the two of them face problems bigger than mythical beasts.


" _Stanley_!"

Ford's eyes flicked open, a layer of sweat soaked through his clothes. The blurry room came into focus as he blinked several times. Ford shook his head, the fuzziness in his brain preventing him from taking in what had happened. He took in a deep breath, attempting to relieve the tension in his chest. His muscles ached from being held taut in his sleep. The old man wiped the sweat off his forehead with the blankets he had kicked to the foot of the bed. It was just another bad dream, he told himself. There was nothing to worry about.

Lately, he had been having nightmares. They started occurring almost two months ago, after Dipper and Mabel left Gravity Falls for their home in Piedmont. Ever since, it had been hard for him to have a good nights rest. The events of what had been known as Weirdmageddon were recounted in his dreams. Everything that had happened played in his head like a movie every night. Ford relived the fear of losing his family- his brother- in vivid detail.

Most of those few days he had lived as a solid gold statue, turned that way by Bill after refusing to join him. He had, of course, refused, resulting in his golden state. But when he was freed of being in a statue-like form, he had been interrogated for information on how to spread the apocalypse. Bill had tried to go after his family, to torture and kill them to sap the instructions out of Ford. To defeat the demon, Ford had to trap him in Stan's mind- and then erase every memory that his brother had gained in his entire life. It had been one of the hardest things Ford had ever done. Sure, Stan had regained a lot of his memories since then, but there were still patches there, and Ford knew it. Every once in a while Stan looked at him as if he was lost and confused. Like he didn't know where he was, or even who he was. This made Ford start to panic every time, but he never said anything. Every day the fear that Stan's memory would collapse in upon itself again followed Ford like a second shadow.

Ford, shaking, tried to forget it all as he mindlessly tuned into the sounds of waves slapping against the hull of the Stan O' War. The boat rocked gently underneath him, making Ford's stomach turn a little. He flipped onto his side and stared at the planks for several minutes, tracing his eyes along the grain of the wood. He tried to concentrate on his breathing and make it slow down, but his usual methods weren't working. Finally sucking it up and climbing out of bed, he ascended the short steps up to the boat's deck, Stan rustling in his blankets as Ford passed.

He leaned against the railing closest to him and hung his head, a faint ocean breeze ruffling his grey hair. The chill made the hairs on his neck stand up, and he shivered more than before. Pulling his warm fleece jacket tighter around his body, Ford looked downward into the dark water. He could see nothing below the ocean's surface, only inky blackness. Ford sucked in a breath of air, cold stinging his lungs.

Ford didn't think he could ever forgive himself for hating his brother for so long. Like Stan had said to him so many times; the past is in the past. But, Ford wasn't the type of man to just ignore things like that. He had almost caused the end of the world- and, by extension, the end of his family and friends- because of his careless foolishness. All of this, just because of a stupid science faire project that broke years ago. Ford was just thankful that everything turned out so well. Had Bill won, he wouldn't know where they would be now. But he was lying to himself. A thought that he couldn't deny popped into his mind. _We would be dead. Or worse._ He shuddered at this revelation and pushed it back out of his head.

"Nightmares again, Sixer?"

He jumped at the noise, breath catching in his throat as his twin came up behind him. Stan didn't look at Ford as he approached, only leaned on the railing next to him.

"You're supposed to be asleep, Stanley," Ford pointed out breathlessly, staring back into the water. Stan only sniffed, dismissing his brother's words.

"Look, I made you promise to come wake me up if you had any more night terrors. We're supposed to watch out for each other now." His voice was grim, yet understanding.

Ford didn't like it when his brother did this. There was clearly some minuscule amount of ice left between them. He didn't reply, only continued to stare downward at the lapping water. Stan's gaze was burning into him now, eyebrows drawn together.

"Ford," Stan said.

"Stanley, can't you see that I'm trying to calm down? Go back to bed."

Stan only brushed the annoyance in his twin's voice off, saying, "Your act isn't going to work on me, Sixer. I'm not going to leave you alone up here until you spill your innermost feelings," Stan's voice became more joking, which made the muscles in Ford's back relax a little. He could see that his brother was only trying to cheer him up.

"Maybe I should," Ford replied, "Or maybe I should just go back to bed."

"That sounds like a good idea to me," The deck boards creaked as Stan withdrew from the railing, approaching the stairs. He paused and looked back for a moment, "You coming, Ford?"

"I'll be just a minute. You go on ahead and get some rest."

"Okay," Stan shrugged, a hint of doubt in his voice, and disappeared through the door.

Ford unbuttoned part of his jacket as soon as Stan left, hand reaching for something buried in the fleece lining. His fingers brushed the object delicately as if it was a fragile artifact. The texture of it felt rough against his skin as he pulled it out. Ford's movements were careful, almost as if it's binding would tear at any moment. Moonlight spilled over the object, allowing him to get a good look at it.

It was a book. Dipper and Mabel had given it to him before they left, telling him to write about his adventures on the ocean. It had a scratched cloth cover, threads already coming loose. Ford lightly brushed his fingers over the unraveling patches and pulled out a pen from his pocket. He opened the front cover, revealing the first page to be blank.

"Fourth time's the charm, then," he mumbled to himself, writing something on the clean page; _October 17th, 2012._


End file.
